


Morning Whispers

by daintyloulou



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Elounor, M/M, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 16:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/902353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daintyloulou/pseuds/daintyloulou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes no words can describe the feelings you get for someone so special. How much your heart races when they say your name, or when you see them smile and laugh at your jokes. The kind of love where you can't go through one day without missing them or thinking of them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Whispers

**Author's Note:**

> Got bored one day and decided to type up a quick fluffy larry one shot. I didnt edit it after i wrote it so sorry if its not the best right now.
> 
> enjoyyyyyyyy.

My mind is fuzzy, the last remnants of a dream being chased away by the realization that I am awake again. It was a nice dream, something about sitting in a big oak tree with a bird sitting on the perch of my shoulder but the details are fading fast even as I try to recall them. With a mental sigh I allow my brain to focus and cautiously open one eye. The bright spring sunlight cuts the room in half and I see dust dancing in the wall of light. I try and pivot my hand from the numbing position it was sitting in, but a light weight held it down. I simper, letting my lips drag into a moon format as I convey a familiar boy lying next to me. His head and body was only a silhouette, a gold halo of morning sun outlining him. I scan his curled hair that was coiled to one side as if he’d fallen asleep on the other, and I transmit slender squeezes to his hand, hoping to get him awake. 

“Harry.” I murmur; so quiet as if it wasn’t meant for him to hear. My breath was soft as I spoke, sending a meager blow to the younger boys bare chest. I flip my eyes to the foot of the bed where Harrys oversized feet hang, uncovered by the duvet. They shuffle around a bit, knocking into mine; and I can’t help but let a giddy smile creep.

“Harrrry.” I sigh onto his lips, hovering so close I could almost taste him. This time, I win a weak morning groan, followed by more shifting of the covers. I smile pleasingly, knowing now what would easily get him up. Slowly, I begin to withdraw my fingers from Harrys clench; causing his hand to frantically search for mine once it was gone. I silently giggle, moving away from the perimeter of his territory, now too far for him to reach.

“Stop it Lou.” He speaks, a morning worn voice cracking against the pressure of his deepened sound. His eyelids remain sealed, but his mind was fully aware of the game I was picking at. A snicker draws from my parted lips, “C’mon Haz, wake up.” I utter, sounding more of a child in need of his mother. I burrow back into the nook of the sheets, dragging them over the top of my head and then tug on his bicep; wanting him to turn over. He does as I please, but still refuses to face the morning light by keeping his eyes buried under the peel of his eyelids. 

“I am awake.” He mutters into his compressed pillow, this time his voice more stable but just as heavy. I roll my eyes in annoyance and flick him in the nose. He winches and pops one eye open, followed by another; “When will you grow up?” He hisses at me, barely moving his jaw to speak. 

A grin seeps into my face, “Someone once told me that even though you want to, just try and never grow up.” My eyes were stirred towards the ceiling, my lips turned into a curve as I was foolish in my own thoughts. “Yeah? And who told you that?” Harry asks, leaning into the inquiry, almost like he wanted to unravel what went on in my mind. 

“A little boy who is just afraid of growing up as I am.” I say, rotating my head to make contact with Harry’s intrigued eyes; strands of my caramel hair sprawling out around my pillow. A glimmer of a smile washes over his face, “What’s his name?” He questions, his voice forming into a mumbled whisper. 

“Peter Pan.” I softly say back, a gracious smile appearing even through my eyes. He giggles, fondness dropping over his body for a split second then fading. “Let me sleep Lou.” He drops his lips and darkens his pupils, wrapping his hands into the covers and yanking it up, over the top of his shoulder, so it sat dangling close to his ear. I huff, ripping the covers from my body, careful not to disturb his side of the bed. “Fine then, I’ll go eat breakfast alone.” I say fumbling about on the floor as my legs weren’t used to the weight of my body just yet. I reach for the wall standing next to me and push myself upright, turning around to catch a glimpse of Harry. He looked so warm and cozy, pillows shaping his head of curls, and covers tucked and nipped tightly around his waist. I let out a sigh and twist back around, sliding into my brown slippers. 

“Lazy bum.” I mumble, hoping Harry could hear. I walk out of our bedroom and groggily slump down the hallway and into the chilly kitchen, my pants making swishing noises against the tile ground as they were a bit too long for my dainty legs. 

I rub the sleep from my eyes and let out an unnecessary loud yawn, then open the refrigerator to receive a carton of white stained milk. My eyes wander down to the expiration date, finding out that it was getting close to its due date. I sigh sleepily and struggle to carry it to the counter, my muscles weak and drowsy.

Without me noticing, a casual hum comes up from the back of my throat, going along with the low sound of a radio playing in the corner. I sway my hips back and forth to the tune as I make my way to the cabinet that held the bowls, grabbing two. I knew I was too whipped to eat without Harry. 

I let a winsome smile twist at my lips as I danced over to the wooden pantry, swinging it open in a fluid motion then grabbing the only kind of cereal we had left, ‘Lucky Charms.’ I press my fingers to the box and wrap my palm around the sharp corners, again checking the expiration date. To my luck, it was fine to eat for another two months. 

The radio seemed to fade in and out, as if it were losing connection but I kept my body sawing away to the music that poured from it. I take the handle of the chilled milk and cascade the think liquid into the two bowls. After, I turn the cap back on and swing it back into the refrigerator where it belonged. 

“Harryyyy, breakfast is ready.” I chime, finishing the master piece by filling it with the cereal itself. I hear the shuffle of covers rippling down the hallway and then a little pitter-patter of feet traveling towards the kitchen. An endearing smile had already taken control over my mouth as I saw his bouncing curls appear around the corner. “Look who finally decided to get up.” I snort, taking a spoonful of cereal and pushing it into my mouth and down my throat. He gives a tired grin in return and trips down on one of the bar stools sitting across from where I stood. I laugh and slide a bowl to Harry, his cereal already soggy just how he likes it. I notice the bags under his eyes, clawing at his face and weighing him down. They looked like a gather of grey clouds, ready for a thunderstorm to happen. “God Haz, you look like a walking corpse.” I knit my eyebrows together and look at him with a concerned glance. I remember when he walked in, the way he dragged his feet, moving slower than usual. 

He seemed to ignore my comment, almost like he was pretending I never said it. His body looked like it was about to fall over at any second, wobbling side to side. “Are you okay?” I ask, more concerned than I wanted him to know. He nods, and takes a spoonful full of lucky charms into his mouth; a tiny drop of milk sliding down his chin. “Didn’t sleep well last night.” I hear him mumble in between loud chews. I deposit my bowl into the sink with a quiet clank, and walk over to Harry’s side. He gives me a disconcerted look out of the corner of his eye but continues eating. 

“Are you sick?” I ask, timidly raising my right hand and pressing it to his cold forehead. He seems to jerk away but in a nicer manner, “I’m not sick Lou.” He says, taking his bowl filled with only a little bit of milk and setting it into the sink as well. 

I grimace, a bit taken back at his reaction. “I did something wrong.” I bite, my face showing absolute no expression. He shakes his head side to side, his curls swaying with each movement. “You didn’t do anything.” He reassures me, but in my ears it didn’t sound believable in the least. 

I tread over to him, now standing in his view; our stomachs almost brushing. I don’t say anything, it’s just a silent glare that I give him. My head was tilted slightly upward and his slightly downward as we were different heights. 

“I love you.” I speak, sounding more like a question than a statement, as if I was asking for his permission to love him. He bobs his head up and down, picking at his finger nails. “I know.” He says, and for the first time in a while I see his eyes light up as the corners of his mouth tuned, the dimples in his cheeks appeared as his whole face showed the amusement of the moment. 

Sometimes no words can describe the feelings you get for someone so special. How much your heart races when they say your name, or when you see them smile and laugh at your jokes. The kind of love where you can't go through one day without missing them or thinking of them. When you close your eyes and you can feel them close to you. When they are the only one that completes you and makes you the happiest person alive. That’s what true love was, and that’s exactly what I felt for Harry.

I didn’t notice until my cheeks started to throb that I was smiling in complete fondness; focused on Harry as if he were an angel that descended from the sky. He taps at my nose and kisses my temple, “And I love you too.” He whispers, looking down on me; that same foolish expression smeared across his face as before.

I take my arms and curl them into the shape of Harry’s neck, letting him hold some of my weight as I stood tip-toed. Slowly, our lips connect almost as if we were too shy to make a move. It’s gentle, but captivating, a mixture of sweet sugar and salty ocean water. Mesmerized lips press together time after time, transporting us to another world. Ragged breathing and dancing tongues bring a fiery heat to the cold apartment air. With just the two of us here, the rest of the world disappears. 

As we separated air rushed to fill the gap between us. My lips were now pigmented red as if Harry had drawn a color to them. I scratched at Harry’s neck and pulled at little curls that wrapped around my pointer finger; while his hands sat loosely on my waist, him being the only thing holding up my sagged sweatpants. 

“For it was not into my ear that you whispered, but into my heart.” Harry quotes, knowing all too well that I knew the rest of it. “And it is not my lips that you kissed, but my soul.” I finish with a sigh of content. Harry opens his mouth slightly, showing only a cave of darkness, “Judy Garland.” He reveals a path of lightheartedness beaming from his eyes, knowing she was both of our favorite actresses of all time; her being the great mind behind the quote. 

I nod, taking my hands from his prickled neck and closing them around Harrys face, finger tips cold and holding each cheek. The pad of my thumbs slid across the boys sharp bone structure, as if I was sculpting him. 

His eyelashes wave up into a tight turn and his eyebrows hide underneath the flashflood of hair, dropping down into his sight. “You don’t look so much like a corpse anymore.” I sound, taking in his now lively pattern. 

He seems to scan me down, head to toe; “Thanks, but you could use some help.” He scoffs, laughing under his hitched breath. I narrow my eyes at him and let a fake laugh roll off my tongue, “Hah hah, very funny Styles.” I sarcastically utter, then wave the palm of my hand over his shagged curls, causing lumps of brown locks to flip in different directions.   
His long fingers instantly flew to the top of his head to sort out the mess that lay on top. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t help but let a chuckle sliver from his throat.


End file.
